


it never rains on us

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Emotional, Intense, M/M, also they shag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is done and over on 29th of December. Here's what happens on New Year's Eve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>Bradley watches in awe, again, slightly dizzy which makes Colin a little frail around the edges, a little more ethereal and abstract, as if Bradley's looking at him through an intricate kaleidoscope of his wine-induced mind, as Colin sits between his legs like a lean, muscular god of the night sky with his black hair and milky, moonlight-like skin. He moans as slick fingers breech him and work him open; he settles and spreads his legs wider, the sparks along his spine waking up again, crawling under his skin and making him buzz with need.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	it never rains on us

It's New Year's Eve. The celebrations can be heard from the street and from the apartments above and below, but Bradley cannot quite concentrate on those. Not properly, at least.

They turned down all the invitations and said  _maybe_ to some; more than a handful of parties expect them in vain, but if he's quite honest with himself, he cannot bring himself to care.

The show ended two nights ago and it's all been rather subdued since then, a mellow, and also stiff air hanging around Colin's place, the sort of heavy mist that appears when you douse the flames with too much water and not enough skill. He's staying in his flat for now because he can't make himself go and be alone back at his own. He  _needs_ this, and Colin doesn't mind –

And yet they haven't touched each other since the moment Colin reached for the remote and with an unmistakable air of finality turned the telly off. The silence stretched, and plans and promises lay heavy between them, filling up the empty space Bradley wanted to occupy so desperately.

They're  _free_ now.

They've been waiting and anticipating this moment for so long they do not really know what to do with themselves now that it's finally here, and Colin's approach to it is nothing short of exactly what Bradley expected. He's being pensive, and pragmatic, and cautious – lost in his thoughts for hours, but Bradley doesn't worry. He knows Colin will resurface on his own terms, when he's made peace with himself, so he waits.

On the eve of the 31st Colin comes back inside, cheeks and ears flushed from the cold and eyes blazing.  _Oh_ , Bradley thinks, a tingle of  _something_ shooting up sparks along his spine from that determined gaze alone. _There he is._

Colin takes a bottle of wine in one hand, and Bradley's hand in the other, thus utilizing both to perfection and takes all three of them to the bedroom. They sit down, cross-legged, facing each other, their knees barely touching and when one third of the bottle is gone, the knees are pressed together closely; when half the bottle is missing Colin reaches for him, gripping under his thighs and pulls him up, until Bradley is pretty much in his lap, his legs enveloping and encasing him. There are no words, only glittery eyes and a brush of fingers when they pass the bottle between them. Bradley is mesmerized by the wine-stained lips, lips that are so full and soft and when he leans forward and kisses him, he realizes Colin's lips are literally the sweetest intoxication, a decadent taste of potent breath, making his head spin.

They finish the bottle, and the second half feels longer, much longer to consume because the long sips are intervowen with lips chasing lips, and noses bumping in a way that's so sweet it makes Bradley's heart ache. He gets lost in the dark shade of Colin's blue eyes, and leans in close enough to count his eyelashes.

He only makes it to seventeen before Colin kisses him again.

His shirt is slid off of him slowly, and in a way only Colin knows how – it's not the shirt that's being removed, it's his flesh that's being exposed. The difference is huge, and Bradley whimpers because he's bare-chested before he even realizes, and yet Colin never stops touching his skin. The slide of his hands along his sides is increased ten-fold, no doubt courtesy of the wine and emotions Bradley is feeling for this man. Kisses are being delivered to his ribs and nipples, and it feels as if little flames flicker to life wherever Colin's lips touch his body. He watches in awe how Colin undresses them with deft hands and fingers, more focused than he has any right to be after a shared bottle of red wine, as Colin's long, slender digits swipe over his knees and thighs, kneading the flesh softly as they go. He feels electric shocks of drunkenness and arousal all over, his cock heavy and hot on his stomach, and a muffled whimper escapes his throat again when he sees the hungry look in Colin's eyes as his gaze fixes and zooms in down to his crotch. Colin licks his lips, an automatic, unintentional response that he doesn't do to tease Bradley, and yet Bradley can't take it any  _other_ way. He watches with paused breath as Colin lifts his hand, and outstretches his index and middle finger, making them strut a slow and deliberate little walk from the middle of Bradley's thigh up to his cock.

He squirms under heavy scrutiny, and as dazed as he is, he feels so much on display he needs contact more than ever. He wonders for a moment how this kind of exposure still makes him flush, but then quickly decides he'll gladly take the shyness if it's always Colin that's causing it. Colin licks his lips again and then dips his head in a move Bradley's not sure how his head didn't go off, spinning, and swallows him whole.

The wet warmth is almost unbearable and Bradley cannot even close his eyes for being so blissed-out, but he realizes the alternative isn't all that different as he watches the ceiling spin above them, and a ridiculous thought of putting mirrors up there crosses his mind. As fast as it comes it also disappears because Colin starts sucking on his head then, slow, gentle-getting-harder sucks, his red  lips stretched around the thickest part beautifully, repeating the motions until Bradley goes cross-eyed and sobs out something that might have, in some reality that isn't drenched in alcohol and Colin, sound like Colin's name. He knows now why all the wine – it makes everything intense, and sharp; every single touch is increased to ardent detail, every little single thing Colin does, a swipe of tongue and a twist of fingers is brought into focus, and yet the orgasm itself is pushed away, a little more difficult to reach, making them work for it because touching each other into a state of delirium is nothing short of incredible.

Colin gives his cock one long, last lick, feeling as if he regrets not staying there for good, a last toe-curling little suck and kiss on the head, and then reaches for the drawer by his bed.

Bradley watches in awe, again, slightly dizzy which makes Colin a little frail around the edges, a little more ethereal and abstract, as if Bradley's looking at him through an intricate kaleidoscope of his wine-induced mind, as Colin sits between his legs like a lean, muscular god of the night sky with his black hair and milky, moonlight-like skin. He moans as slick fingers breech him and work him open; he settles and spreads his legs wider, the sparks along his spine waking up again, crawling under his skin and making him buzz with need. Colin is leaning over him now, looking breathless and so far gone, his eyes hooded and clouded with lust, and Bradley can't help but reach for his cock, stroking and squeezing, needing to touch because it all feels different, somehow.

They're  _free_.

It shouldn't actually affect their bedroom activities, really, because sex between four walls will always be sex between four walls, and yet it's like they're doing it for the first time again – even the setting is the same; Colin's bedroom, booze, Bradley feeling over-exposed and yet not touched even nearly enough, their lips melting together, and if this is his new-old reality, then Bradley won't ask for anything else ever again.

Colin's hand, the slick one, joins him and for a few long, trembling moments they both caress him, their fingers tangling together, wrapping snugly around Colin's cock and stroke him. Bradley drinks in the sounds, the soft whimpers and little mewls, the gasps that grow into broken moans as Colin shudders above him and his head lolls from side to side as if he's finally feeling the vertigo of inebriation and Bradley's hand is only adding to the rising feeling of too intense too soon too  _much_.

Colin stops them with a frantic swat of his hand and hooks Bradley's legs around his middle, driving into him slowly, surely, a sensual roll of in and out, unfaltering in his state of flushed  _everything_ , holding Bradley's hips as his eyes close and face contorts in a state of pleasure that is so beautiful it's almost a bit grotesque, and Bradley finds it difficult to breathe, wondering if they've ever been this drunk on booze and each other before.

_Because they're free._

He watches as Colin moves above him, how beads and droplets of sweat trickle down his torso, his neck constricting in swallows that are painful to make while breathing with such labour; somewhere a distant cheer of entering 2013 can be heard and for a moment, a blissful moment Bradley's mind supplies a background image of Colin in the middle of throes of passion, but with snow falling around them, little snowflakes catching on his eyelashes and lips, and melting all over his heated skin, and suddenly he has to look away.

He doesn't know how long his head is tilted to the side, taking everything Colin is giving him, eyes closed to keep the sudden moist at bay, until Colin stills, completely, and leans over him, a warm hand bringing his face and sanity back and Colin kisses him, and kisses him.

He kisses him until Bradley lets out a watery chuckle and whispers a faint  _happy new year, Cols_ , and Colin grins and picks up his pace of sensual thrusts again, invading him, and penetrating him again with just enough force to make Bradley feel he'll fall apart just as much as he needs this to hold him together. Colin is unrelenting, his breath warm and fruity like the wine, the slide of his cock inside Bradley the strongest point of being grounded despite actual dizziness all around, and as Colin grabs his hands and pins them above Bradley's head, he whispers,  _happy new year to you too, love_.

Bradley's eyes roll back into his skull, and when  _all_ he sees in there is Colin, he isn't surprised in the slightest. His orgasm comes crashing, it is destructive in its revival, rejuvenating and calming him, and his mind experiences a bliss so intense he nearly passes out. His body is tingling all over and he can't even bring himself to care how gloriously hungover they will be tomorrow, as he watches Colin above him shake and flourish in his own climax, his eyelids fluttering shut and mouth falling open, hips a shameless stutter of a chase of indescribable indulgence.

When Colin collapses Bradley envelops him with his arms as well, encasing him in a cocoon of all of his limbs, not allowing Colin to pull out or move away at all. He can feel kisses being delivered to his neck and his clavicle, and he tangles his fingers in Colin's sweat-damp hair, nosing at his ear.

_We're free_ , he murmurs soothingly, and Colin lifts up his head, smiling gently, lovingly, as if the weight of the world was just taken off his shoulders.

_We're free_ , he repeats.


End file.
